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Updated: May 25, 2025
Lockley had a confused impression that he was dreaming this. It was not the way things should happen! This was not true! When he squeezed or released the improvised switch in his hand, the rocket behind him would disappear in a monstrous flame, and he and the three men who faced him would, vanish, and there would be an explosion crater here and a shattered mass of wrecked cars
There was an immediate and intense conference. The lengths of shadows were measured. The size and slope and probable condition of the clearing's surface were estimated. A very light plane, intended for artillery-spotting, took off from the nearest airfield to Boulder Lake. And Lockley and Jill heard it long before it came in sight.
Lockley reached over and flipped back the switch he'd seen Jill flip over. He carefully put down the headset. He stood up. The driver and the small man came back. They picked up the sleeping drunk and moved toward the door. Something fell out of the drunk's pocket. It was a wallet. They did not notice. They went out, carrying the drunk. Jill stooped and recovered it. She looked at Lockley's face.
But somehow even that was less horrible than the images that followed an assumption that the occupants of the spaceship might be men. "Calling Vale ... Vale, come in!" He fiercely repeated the call into the instrument's microphone. "Lockley calling Vale! Come in, man! Come in!" He flipped the switch and listened. And Vale's voice came. "I'm here." The voice shook.
He was up there to the northeast with an electronic survey instrument like Lockley's and on the same job. Jill had an assignment from some magazine or other to write an article on how national parks are born, and she was staying at the construction camp to gather material. She'd learned something from Vale and much from the engineers while Lockley had tried to think of interesting facts himself.
"We've come for baccy," said Lockley, as he leaped over the bulwarks and shook hands, "I s'pose you've plenty of that?" "Ya," the Dutchman had "plenty tabac ver sheep too, an' mit sooch a goot vlavour!" He was what the Yankees would call a 'cute fellow, that Dutchman.
On the third morning we betook ourselves to Lockley Park, having learned that the greater part of it was open to visitors, and that, indeed, on application, the house was occasionally shown. Within its broad enclosure many a declining spur of the great hills melted into parklike slopes and dells.
It'll be strange if they don't take advantage of their opportunity." Jill tried to eat the food Lockley had laid out. She couldn't. She began to cry quietly. Lockley swore at himself for telling her the worst, which it was always his instinct to see. He said urgently, "Hold it! That's the worst that could happen. But it's not the most likely!" She tried to control her tears.
Front or back part of the trailer?" "All of it," panted Jill. "Mostly front. What " "The hall again," Lockley snapped. "Hunt for a back door!" He thrust her out. She fumbled toward the back of the building while he went to the street entrance. The trailer-truck loomed huge. The driver's helper came out of it. Another man followed him. Still another.... Lockley fired from the doorway.
"Vale just told me," said Lockley, his voice unsteady, "that he saw something come down. His story was so wild I didn't believe it. But you pass it on and say that Vale's watching it. He's waiting for instructions. He'll report everything he sees. I'm thirty miles from him, but he can see the thing that came down. Maybe the creatures in it can see him. Listen!"
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